


Motel Mishaps

by mason_adrift



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, Gore, Horror, Murder, Murder scene, No Specific Pronouns, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mason_adrift/pseuds/mason_adrift
Summary: You awaken to a grisly scene in front of you. You don't know how you got here, or who is laying bloodied in the bed, but thankfully there's someone here to help you... Well, he seems to be helping you so far.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Motel Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning;  
> Graphic description of gore, bugs, rotting, amnesia, and mentions of taking drugs.
> 
> Wouldn't expect a part two from this- just having some fun!

The scent of rotting flesh hangs in the room like a fog, flies slowly crawling through the cracked windows and vents to get a taste of what’s laid out on the motel bed.  
Blood was seeping past the sheets and settling into the mattress. A mess of organs laid on the comforter- the face of this person was so badly beaten in I couldn’t tell who it was. I didn’t know if this was someone I knew or a complete stranger, I wasn’t even sure how I got into this motel room to begin with.

No time was lost on my end, but all of it was a complete blur of color. Sound only coming through muffled and distant in my ears. 

I got used to the smell and the sound of bugs buzzing by my ears, I _did_ wake up to this after more than a night's sleep after all. That fact didn’t stop the bile rising up and out of my throat though. I ran to the bathroom and was only able to make it to the sink before vomit was coming down. The stinging at the back of my throat sobered me up from whatever vacant state I was in; the reality of what was going on crashing around me.

There was a dead body in the bed of a motel room I am currently in, and now that I’m looking at them, there was blood staining the skin of my arms and hands. A sickening dark red stuck in my fingernails.   
I twisted the knob of the sink and started washing the red from my arms. The water boiled and burned my skin, but that didn’t stop me. I scrubbed until there wasn’t a trace of it left on me- practically scratched lines across my skin.

Looking up at the mirror was even worse.   
My clothes were completely drenched with red, my face covered with splatters of it. I stumbled back so hard I fell against the wall. I wanted to rip my clothes off- no- I wanted to rip my skin off! This wasn’t happening- this isn’t real! Please tell me this isn’t real.  
But no matter how many times I shut my eyes, pressing the backs of my wrists against the lids of my eyes, it was still me. Still, my reflection was covered in blood, and now that I was looking even longer I could notice the chunks of flesh dried against the cloth of my shirt and face.

A soft knock came from just outside the doorway.   
I turned and saw a man standing in the center, his hand coming down and into his jacket pocket as he stared down at me. He wore a white mask, black lines painting a surprised expression but that contrasted his eyes completely. They were half-lidded, bags underneath the solemn brown surrounding his iris. 

I gripped tightly onto my shit, backing up against the wall as I tried getting distance between us. I wanted to explain myself, explain the blood and the body he definitely passed on his way here, but nothing came out.   
He didn’t say anything either. He simply pulled the backpack off his shoulders and tossed it to my feet, the impact was deafeningly loud in the silence of the room. 

I looked back up at him for some sort of explanation, but he simply took out a cigarette and a lighter, lit his smoke, and walked back into the bloodied room.  
It took some time before I picked up the bag and looked inside. There were clothes, but none of my own. A thin muscle shirt and a pair of naturally torn-up jeans stained with white paint. 

I quickly shut the door and stripped out of my own bloodied clothes. Using the shower, I quickly scrubbed my body down with a small towel- my eyes closed the entire time. My mind wouldn’t let up; somehow the muffled voices that were hidden in the back of my mind were coming back in short bursts. Snippets of laughter, desperate screaming, and angry yells, some even of my own voice, but I still had no context or memory of any of this.   
I changed and prepared myself for what I’d be seeing outside.

I first caught sight of the bed where the body _should_ have been, completely open for everyone to see their full anatomy, but it wasn’t open.   
The body was wrapped in the comforter and sheets of the bed, all tied together with cords. Though the blood was still there, it was definitely better than the scene from earlier.

“You remember anything?”   
It was the man from earlier. He was sitting down on a chair directly in front of the bed. His mask was off revealing his face, the cigarette he was smoking before was now put out on the table beside him. I noticed his jacket was off as well, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up a little bit past his elbow.   
I take one last look at the body before turning to him, “N-No, I don’t remember anything.”  
He ran a hand along his face, “Of course you don’t.” He sat up, grabbing his jacket to throw my direction. “Put that on, we have to get out of here.”  
“Who the hell are you?” I grip tightly on the jacket, reeking of smoke, and must. “What is going on- I don’t know how I got here or how-”  
“Do you want to go to prison for manslaughter, or do you want to get the hell out of here?” He paused but not long enough for me to get a word in. “Drop the questions for now and let’s get going.”

Not seeing prison as the most ideal place to be, I put on the jacket and walked with him out the door. Before stepping out he zipped the jacket up completely for me, pulled up the collar, and said to keep close to the building. He led me through the aisle of doors and to the back where a lonely busted up car was parked.   
We both got into the car, him more so forcing me, and drove out of there.

“Do you recognize anything?”  
I didn’t get what he was talking about, but I started actually taking a look at the streets around me and noticed everything seemed completely foreign. There were shops I’ve never seen before with a completely different scenery than what I was used to.  
“That bad huh? Damn, it really took you far then.”  
“Do I know you?” I finally asked him.  
He shook his head, “No, you don’t. We met last night- er... No, it was the night before. I saw you tweaking out and knew what was going on. Took me a bit to track you down though, but it tends to follow a pattern when taking someone.”  
“What…?”   
I tried digesting what he had said and was met with a hand straining to meet mine as he continued driving, “Name’s Tim.”  
Hesitantly I shook his hand, introducing myself as well.   
“I was ‘ _tweaking_ ’? Why-...... Was I on drugs?”  
“If you don’t know already then it’s best you don’t know now,” He cleared his throat. “You have somewhere I can take you? You need to call someone?”  
“Don’t know about what?” I ignored his question. “There is a dead body back in that room- I was covered in blood! I think I have the right to know!”

He rolled his eyes and took a moment to answer me, all the while I was growing increasingly panicked.   
“Okay... You _**were**_ on drugs, but what you did was not your fault. Let’s say, you just weren’t yourself, alright?”  
That wasn’t convincing at all, “Stop it with the bullshit-”  
“No- You stop it with the questions! All you need to know right now is that I’m trying to help you. I’m also trying to keep you from getting wrapped up in something way bigger than the both of us.”  
“You’re not making sense.”  
“I don’t _have_ to make sense, you just have to shut up about it before-…” He scoffed and took out another cigarette. “We’re not talking about this anymore.”

I was silent as he lit his cigarette, watching as he blew the smoke out the window and continued down the street.  
“Is it the mafia?”  
His face scrunched up with anger or complete confusion, I couldn’t tell at this point. “The mafia? What the fuck kind of question is that?”  
“You said it was bigger than the both of us,” I shrugged.  
“Well, it’s bigger than any organized crime- stop trying to get me to talk about this! We’re done already. Stop.”

Looking out the window I started getting more of those snippets again. I could hear myself laughing in a way I never thought my vocal cords could handle. That probably explained why it hurt to talk so much.   
The streets held what looked like a small town. It was still early from what I could tell, the sky was blue and there was a coolness to the air as we drove down the freshly paved road. The grass was so green it seemed unreal. All the trees are trimmed into perfect circles and everyone seemed content as they walked down the sidewalks.

I turned back to Tim and he eventually noticed me staring.  
“What is it now?”  
I thought for a moment, taking another look at the buildings we passed. 

“Is it sneeple?”


End file.
